


Kisses in the Study

by FactoryKat



Series: The Mages' Champion and the Healer's Hope - The Wyatt Hawke Collection [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Named Hawke (Dragon Age), Romance, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21068039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: Hawke was happy to be pawed at, and all too keen to let him lead this waltz and take command for once.Or a short little drabble in which the boys can't keep their hands off each other but get interrupted by an unexpected arrival.





	Kisses in the Study

**Author's Note:**

> Implied smut. Mostly suggestive. ;)

The world around them was lost in a heady miasma as they tripped through the cellar door. Hawke's legs caught the rug and carried him clumsily into the table, though Anders appeared to neither notice or care. In league with his clumsy limbs, his eyes refused to focus on the walls and furnishings of the manor study, colors, and objects blearing together as his vision swam. His eyelids fluttered closed as he surrendered to the pleasant numbness, senses dulled by both liquor and the sensation of lips nipping at the skin along his throat. All the while, hands greedily peeled away what clothing he still wore. A shudder rolled through him when the more delicate skin of his lower half met the cool air, only barely warmed by the roaring hearth.

He playfully struggled beneath Anders just a little and latched onto his partner's lips. Hawke was happy to be pawed at, and all too keen to let him lead this waltz and take command for once. To his fortune, Hawke realized his pushing was enough of an indicator of intent to the frenzied mage, who had already kicked aside his boots and slipped out of his heavy coat and pauldrons in a single fluid action. He had an innate grace to him, his Anders, something that always made Wyatt's breath catch, and his pulse quicken.

Hands played at his chest as they slipped off his tunic, the last piece of clothing keeping Wyatt's body hidden away from his needy lover. They charted out muscles, grazed raised welts, and traced the scars he'd earned from childhood adventures and copious battles. They knitted and kneaded themselves in the soft flesh of his stomach, making him shiver before working into massaging motions on his hips and thighs. Meanwhile, Anders's mouth strayed from his, earning a sound of protest from Wyatt as lips skimmed across his jaw. They kissed along the ridge and shell of his ear before pinching the soft lobe between teeth, the sting from which was coincidentally timed with his back hitting the wall as his lover pinned him with his body. Intuitively, Wyatt reached for a brace, clutching at the banister overhead.

Muffled voices resounded through the main floor of the estate, indistinguishable but easily ignored. Anders ceased his affections and suddenly pulled away with worry lines creasing his forehead, earning a disappointed groan from Wyatt. "It's just Mother. She never comes in here, it's fine."

"Alright…" He murmured, seemingly unconvinced.

Some light coaxing, fingers greedily tangling themselves in Anders' disheveled blonde hair touching and massaging his scalp, was all it took to tempt him back. Before long, the mage's mouth was on his, after spreading his attention to other, equally neglected parts of him. A kiss was such a simple action, but Wyatt still gasped for breath and beamed against his lover's lips, far too pleased with himself and their current situation. Though eager to encourage their coupling along - his baser urges aching to be sated after weeks spent apart while they had both been too busy - he refrained from taking back control.

Graciously, his partner appeared to be in agreement with that thought.

A knee bisected his thighs just as the mage's heated kisses adorned his throat and traveled down along his chest. Hands followed a similar path, before snaking around to rest on his backside; they gripped with a delightful firmness, pulling a premature moan from his throat. With each feathery touch of soft lips on his exposed skin, Wyatt’s body stirred with increasing need.

Once those wandering hands reached their intended destination, well he could focus on little else once the haze crept in and pulled him under. The closer Anders coaxed him to the edge, the tighter he gripped the banister supports and sucked in a deep breath-

"Oh, you should see the study. I don't spend as much time there myself, but my son…"

Cold panic flooded his system, flushing out all arousal and leaving him to crash as he fell from his euphoric state. It was a scramble to frantically to pry themselves apart and seek cover, the disordered heap of clothing on the floor helping matters none. Head still filled with the fog of pleasures both carnal and consumed alike, Hawke didn't have the mental faculties to sort out what belonged to who before Anders seized what he could and slipped out through the cellar door just in time.

Climbing into what he hoped was his own tunic proved to be a minor challenge, but the stomach dropping realization that it barely covered anything important arrived too late. Anders, in his hurried retreat, miraculously left his coat on the desk. Wyatt grabbed the article with full intent to run off just as the door opened.

"Leandra darling, it's all so love-"

"Andraste on the pyre!"

"Oh, Maker's Mercy!"

Startled exclamations from his mother and her guests set his cheeks aflame, and his heart threatened to burst forth from his chest; it was beating so fast. The noble couple shielded their eyes - despite the jacket he precariously held to spare them a show - before Leandra ushered them out. He waited until he heard the voices growing distant, before slinking out of the study and making a dash for the stairs.

"Wyatt Conor Hawke. What in the Maker's name was that all about?"

Ah yes, when Mother broke out full names, that was often a good sign she was angry. His fleeing undetected was a lost cause, and running off now would only upset her further. Still, Wyatt dared not turn around, more for his own sake than hers. "Mother! What a surprise, I didn't expect you home just yet. How was your visit with the Arenburgs?"

Her chest swelled with a drawn-out sigh and solemn shake of her head. "Don't change the subject. Honestly, dear, what you do in your spare time is your business, but I would appreciate it if you would keep your activities to your bedroom."

He nodded vigorously, finding his mouth dry and unable to form any proper response, but relief overtook him when she turned and left, muttering the whole while. Exhaling the breath he had been holding, Wyatt slumped against the wall and was still perched on the stairs leading up to his bedroom when the creak of the study door drew his eyes down. Anders' blonde head broached the entrance into the main hall and swept the room until he turned to look up.

"Hawke, where is my-" His brows rose, reaching his hairline as his eyes settled on the coat his lover still clung to. "Ah. I see." The subtlest hue of pink flushed his cheeks, and a flirtatious smile pulled at his lips. "It's a good look for you."

"You think so? Well, I'll have to remember that."

Anders' laugh rekindled the fire in his core, bringing a tooth-bearing grin to his face. "Now, where were we?" He stalked forward and up the steps with a wildness in his whiskey-gold eyes.

"Oh? And here I thought you just wanted your coat back."

"That had been my original intent, yes. But I might have been persuaded otherwise. Come on, before I change my mind again."

Wyatt didn't resist as his lover forced him to turn around and march forward up the stairs towards his bedroom.


End file.
